


When The Sky Is Falling

by Ravendork



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU after 3b, Angst, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, I cannot tag, M/M, Magic!Stiles, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Nogitsune, Post Nogitsune, Recovery, Road Trips, Slow Build, Stiles and Derek road trip, Tattoos, Wards, post 3b, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 10:21:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4956604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravendork/pseuds/Ravendork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Nogitsune, Derek notices that Stiles isn't doing so well, which isn't that surprising. But, he feels guilty for not having helped him before things got out of control. So, he suggests something to the human that could help him heal. The two then set off on a road trip where the discover that Stiles is more than just the human sidekick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When The Sky Is Falling

**Author's Note:**

> I have a whole heap of ideas for this, but this is all I have typed up at the moment. I'm going to be posting what I have written of a bunch of different fics, and the one with the most love is the one I will work on :) Sorry. :D

Stiles and Derek had saved each other so many times it was starting to get hard to keep track of. But neither had any intention to stop any time soon. Derek especially, as he felt guilty for running away so soon after the darach and the alpha pack. He felt guilty because he wasn't there to protect Stiles from becoming the Nogitsune. He felt guilty for that, as he did for most of the bad things that happened to the people in his life. 

Derek, however, knew that his guilt did not even begin to reach the same level as what Stiles felt for the whole Nogitsune disaster. In fact, Derek was terrified to even think about what was going on in the boys head. He didn't know how he was managing to even remotely function. Derek knew that if it were him that had been possessed, he would probably be comatose. He basically was after the fire that destroyed his life and killed his family. 

Derek had never felt such sympathy for someone as he did for Stiles. Not Isaac and Erica when he had offered them the bite all those months ago. The bite could save them from their particular circumstances. The bite could never save Stiles from his. derek didn't know what could. But for some strange reason he wanted to be the one that saved Stiles.

He wanted to offer the boy the solace that he deserves. He just wanted to see Stiles smile again, because the world should not be deprived of a happy Stiles Stilinski. 

The werewolf stood in the bedroom of the Beacon Hills Sheriff's teenage son, so much similar to how he had just mere months before, when he had been a wanted suspect. It had his lips twitching as he thought about how at least now he wasn't a criminal.

Stiles came barrelling into his room, and as he had that previous time, he dived straight to his computer and booted it up.

It only took a moment before the boy froze. Derek watched from where he was standing, fascinated, as Stiles slowly turned in his seat, pure terror on his face. The moment his eyes landed on Derek, he slumped, sighing heavily, his relief palpable.

"Oh my God, dude, don't do that to me!" Stiles exclaimed. Although the words screamed Stiles, he didn't sound right. The hyperness was gone, replaced with exhaustion.

"You don't seem happy," Derek said, and immediately wanted to smack himself for his useless comment. Of course the kid wasn't happy.

"It's hard to be happy when you've barely slept in over a week," Stiles said. Derek stared at him, frown in full throttle.

"Or murdered dozens and caused pain and damage to so many people and killed one of your best friends," Stiles muttered, looking down at his lap where he was twisting his fingers anxiously.

"That wasn't you, Stiles." Derek said firmly.

"It was my body. I remember everything," Stiles snapped, glaring straight in Derek's eyes. 

"I'm sorry," Derek said. Stiles stared in surprise.

"Why are you sorry? You didn't do it," he sounded confused. 

"Because, I should have been here to prevent it," Derek said. Stiles shook his head.

"I don't think you could have. I don't think there was anything any of could have done," stiles murmured. There was a seriousness to his face that Derek had never seen before. 

"That's the thing, Stiles. There is. There are wards that can protect you from possession. If you had one of those, this would never have happened," Derek said softly. Stiles stared at him, eyes wide.

"And you didn't think to mention this before?" Stiles snapped, an anger that was more than wild burning in his eyes. Derek winced, and stepped back from the human boy.

"I didn't know you were going to get possessed. I'm a werewolf. I don't have the power of foresight. But, I remember reading about magic wards before the fire. Peter had books on basically everything supernatural related," he said, hands raised placatingly. He continued speaking before Stiles had a chance to open his mouth.

"I know that it is too little, too late, but, at least with an anti possession ward or rune, you know nothing like that will ever happen to you again. You would know that nobody could ever control you, or your body, without your consent, ever again."

Stiles was staring at Derek with his eyes so wide that it almost terrified the werewolf. He didn't know if the look was one of anger or one of surprise or what, and the boys scent was so muddled in pain and anxiety that it was hard to get a read on him. But then Stiles started crying. Tears spilling out of his huge brown eyes, fat drops rolling down his cheeks and Derek froze. It wasn't the first time he had seen the boy cry, but it never ceased to make something in his chest hurt. 

"Please! I want it!" Stiles exclaimed, throwing himself at Derek, taking a hold of the front of his shirt in his shockingly human, fragile hands. "I don't care that the Nogitsune is done with. I never want anybody else to have control of me again! Please Derek, I need that ward. I don't care what it takes!" Stiles' voice was insistent and hysterical. 

Derek took a hold of his hands that were still clutching his shirt front, and held them gently within his own. 

"Whatever it takes, Stiles," he whispered, nodding his head, staring straight into the brown eyes of the boy before him, meaning it from the depths of his heart. There were so many people he had not been able to help, or failed in helping. He wasn't going to fail Stiles again. 

"I don't know a lot about the wards, but I reckon Dr Deaton would have an idea," Derek said quietly, as he stepped back from Stiles. Stiles nodded his head, looking away from Derek, his face pensive.

***

It didn't take long for the two to make their way to the vets. They took Stiles' jeep and Derek took his usual place in the passenger seat next to the teenage boy. The two were silent on the drive, which was unusual. Stiles had always talked when he drove Derek anywhere, whether it was about whatever it was they were searching for, or just to harass Derek, he just didn't shut up. Derek was never much of a talker. He normally answered anything Stiles asked with short and succinct answers, or just threatened the boy. 

But, the entire drive was almost eerily quiet, and Stiles' eyes did not leave the road. Derek felt almost unnerved by this. And at first, Derek thought that Stiles was missing his normal twitching and jiggling, being unable to sit still, but upon closer inspection, he realised that Stiles was moving. His hands were shaking, even as they clenched the steering wheel. His knees were doing a bopping motion, he was chewing his lip almost to the point of making it bleed, and his eyes were darting everywhere, as though looking for some unseen threat that was going to jump out at him at any moment. 

He didn't know why, but this worried Derek more than Stiles' normal erratic behaviour ever had. 

They arrived at Deaton's soon enough that the drive didn't get awkward, but Derek still felt like there was something fundamentally wrong with the entire drive. It didn't matter that he was aware of what had happened, had tried actively to save Stiles, but, it still, it was just wrong of Stiles to be silent and still. 

It wasn't late enough that the clinic was closed, but there wasn't any body standing around waiting to see the good vet. That made Derek and Stiles relax minutely, despite both being unaware of being any more tense than usual of late. 

"Derek, Stiles, what can I do for you today?" Deaton called out from somewhere out of sight. Derek could only just hear his heart beat. The vet, whilst knowledgeable and an ally, still unnerved Derek most of the time. There was just something about him that was odd. Not bad, per se, just odd. Perhaps it had something to do with him having known the Hales, known Derek's mother, yet he had not had the decency to tell Derek that when he came back to town, instead choosing to hide behind his guise as unknowing vet. It still grated on Derek's nerves, because the man could have come out and said the truth when Derek first confronted him, rather than letting an angry beta wolf beat him up. Derek refused to apologise about that, purely on principle.

"Wards!" Stiles exclaimed the moment that Deaton appeared before them from out the back of the clinic somewhere. Stiles sounded so much like he had when Derek first met him that it made his heart ache. Deaton just blinked. Derek wanted to maybe smack the man again.

"Wards?" Deaton repeated. His face was its usual blank, displaying no emotion or even an inkling that he knew what Stiles was talking about. Was the man dense? Derek noticed that Stiles had deflated slightly at the way Deaton seemed to be completely oblivious.

"Yes, wards. Protection wards to be more precise," Derek said from his position beside Stiles. The kid was basically vibrating where he stood, his eyes darting between Derek and Deaton, as though he could sense that Derek was just moments from hitting Deaton up the side of his head. 

"I see. I have a few simple ones. Mostly just mountain ash, of course, which lines the premises here," Deaton said, and if Derek was anyone else, he may have thought that the man was dropping a hint, in fact, he probably was. 

"Anything that can prevent possession?" Stiles asked, his voice no longer holding the same excitement it had mere moments before. 

Deaton actually paused to consider it, the mask he had been wearing slipping, as he realised what it was the two wanted protection wards for. Derek hoped he understood the severity and would actually be helpful rather than pull the normal mysterious bull shit that pissed them all off. Honestly, Derek did not know how Scott was able to work with the man. He only began doling out information when it suited him, or the situation had gotten dire. 

"There are a few anti-possession wards out there, ones that can be tattooed onto you. But, I have no absolutely no more information about them. I've never read into detail about them, nor have I ever really thought about them. My studies were always focused on other areas... More werewolf related. I really am sorry that I can't offer you any advice, or actually be of any help, Stiles." Deaton said, sounding sincere. Derek heard no blips in his heart rate, so he knew he wasn't lying. But, it was so strange seeing the stoic man offer sympathy for anyone not an animal. 

Stiles looked absolutely dejected, and refused to meet Derek's eyes when he looked at the younger male. Derek felt almost as dejected as Stiles looked. He felt like he had let the boy down again, just by offering him this nugget of hope, of light, only to have it dashed out just before he got his hands on it. 

"But there is such a thing?" Stiles asked, after a moment of silence, his voice strained, shaking. Derek could smell the despair wafting off him in waves. It made his stomach roll, and he wanted to run away from the pain Stiles was in. it brought up too many memories of after the fire, of the scent of despair and grief that hung around Laura for so many months, blocking his nostrils until he was filled with so much guilt that he wanted to end it all. 

But Stiles was also hopeful. That hope that Derek had given him hadn't been dashed just yet. There was still a tiny hope. Deaton had admitted that he vaguely recalled something about anti-possession wards. 

Deaton sighed, and ran a hand down his dark face. He turned around and walked back the way he came, leaving Derek and Stiles standing behind, gawking after him in surprise. However, the man returned moments later, before either of them had a chance to follow, or verbalise a complaint. 

In the hands of the vet was an iPad. Derek stared at it in surprise. Were they about to receive information about something magic from a piece of technology barely bigger than Derek's arm? He was bemused, to say the least. Deaton didn't look at either of them, instead he stood behind the counter made of mountain ash, picked up a pen, and began writing on the back of a piece of paper that had been sitting on the surface. It took the man several minutes, as he glanced between his iPad and his note taking. 

Finally, Deaton put the pen and iPad down and picked up the piece of paper, before handing it to Stiles. Derek peered over his shoulder at what the vet had written in the typically barely readable writing of a doctor. 

It was a list of names and contact details. Some of them included emails, some of them didn't. 

"What is this?" Derek asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

"It's a list of contacts," Deaton replied, back to his mysterious, unruffled self. Derek resisted ripping his throat out... With his claws. He wouldn't want to put the man in his mouth, never know what type of bullshit he would catch.

"So insightful," Stiles said quietly, sarcastically. Deaton showed no signs of whether he heard Stiles' comment, however. Though he did deign to actually clarify.

"I don't know anything about anti-possession runes, wards or tattoos. But, there are many people out there that might. I wrote down a list of people that may have some idea, or know of someone else that does. Some of the people on that list are dangerous, or quite powerful. There are also some that haven't really kept up with modern technology, so trying to contact them via email, and in some cases, via the phone, would be pointless. If you want to find out anything about what you seek, talk to someone on this list," Deaton said.

Derek personally thought that was a bit long winded. There were quite a few names on the sheet of paper, and they were spread out across the country, some in places Derek had never even heard of before. 

The scent in the clinic changed, only slightly, mixed in with the sadness and heartbreak and grief was now the pleasant aroma of hope that Stiles had when Derek first mentioned the wards an hour or so ago. Derek turned to look at Stiles and was pleased to see a small smile beginning to grace the familiar face of the boy he'd come to consider one of the closest people to him. 

"Thank you so much, Doc," Stiles exclaimed, his hands flapping with the piece of paper clenched tightly between his fingers. Derek quickly extracted the page before it was torn in his grip. 

Deaton offered Stiles a small smile, one usually reserved for Scott.

"I hope you find what you are looking for, Mr Stilinski," he said, his voice kind and gentle. Stiles' own smile seemed to grow smaller, more meek and bitter. He nodded his head, turned away and walked out of the building.

"Thank you Deaton," Derek said after a moment of hesitation. The vet nodded his head.

"I'm guessing you were the one that told Stiles about the wards?" Deaton asked, he didn't even wait for Derek to respond. "I'm glad you thought of it. It's going to be a weight lifted off his chest and hopefully he can begin to heal," 

Derek nodded his head. That was his hope as well. He didn't bother saying anything else, just lifted a hand in farewell, and followed Stiles, who was hovering just outside the entrance, waiting for Derek. 

"Let's head back to mine and get these names and addressed programmed into my phone so we don't lose them," Stiles said. Derek just resisted smiling at that. It was such a Stiles thing to say, giving them something to do when there was nothing they could really be doing. He nodded his head, and headed to the Jeep where he climbed in the passenger seat, the piece of paper with the names and contact details folded in half twice in his hand. He was actually almost scared to let it out of his sight, just incase something happened to it and they lost it. It was his only hope to heal Stiles.


End file.
